I have this sequence from a dream which I must commit to words.
Now he sat among his fellow knights, high in the saddle of his steed,
A heavy dray horse covered in the 'Dupont' livery and armour.
The Knight was aware of a line of bowmen behind him ready to fight.
From his lofty position he could see the French lines formed on the horizon.
Behind their line on each flank was their cavalry,shimmering in the heat haze.
The horns sounded for the cavalry to advance; Two hundred English Knights,
Rode forward at a slow pace between the sharpened wooden stakes of the English line. The sounds of armour,r iding tackle and weaponry added to the brevity of the advance.
From behind them another trumpet call ordered the English bowmen to fire.
Three thousand steel tipped missiles, goose feather fledged filled the sky.
As the English Knights broke into a trot the air above them blackened.
The arrows rained down upon the French lines penetrating steel and flesh.
The screams of the wounded and dying were muffled as the next salvo of death rained down upon them.
The Knights now broke into a gallop and raced through the opposing line,
The attack on the French was unexpected as the English tore into them.
Dupont chose his opponent well. A magnificently equipped French Knight in black armour.
Racing past others he parried the French Knight's mace and delivered a massive blow with his tempered steel battle axe.The axe bit into the shoulder shattering his opponents clavacal, the upstroke severing the jugular vein.
The gaping wound haemorriged into the French Knights armour,choking him in his own blood. Falling from his horse he lay at the English Knight's feet.
Dupont leaped from his horse and finished him off with a second fierce blow.
He was already dead, his blood leaking out of his armour onto the battlefield.
Dupont stood still and watched the battle rageing around him, as if in slow motion. The English infantry were putting the survivors of the rain of arrows to the sword. Many Knights were captured and held for ransom; The dead were relieved of their weapons and armour much prized by the English.
The aftermath of the battle now took hold. Dupont led his horse back to the English lines. As he walked he recognised the knight he had slain only an hour ago.The black armour was distinctive and suddenly looked familiar to Dupont..
Looking at the Knights breastplate he recognised the crest. Two hawks and a crown.'The Black Prince'...His brother-in-law...The man who's life he had just taken belonged to his wife's family.
Poetry by Sid Gardner
Read 518 times
Written on 2009-03-07 at 01:32
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English Battleaxe
It had taken three hours for the Knight's paige to dress him in armour.Now he sat among his fellow knights, high in the saddle of his steed,
A heavy dray horse covered in the 'Dupont' livery and armour.
The Knight was aware of a line of bowmen behind him ready to fight.
From his lofty position he could see the French lines formed on the horizon.
Behind their line on each flank was their cavalry,shimmering in the heat haze.
The horns sounded for the cavalry to advance; Two hundred English Knights,
Rode forward at a slow pace between the sharpened wooden stakes of the English line. The sounds of armour,r iding tackle and weaponry added to the brevity of the advance.
From behind them another trumpet call ordered the English bowmen to fire.
Three thousand steel tipped missiles, goose feather fledged filled the sky.
As the English Knights broke into a trot the air above them blackened.
The arrows rained down upon the French lines penetrating steel and flesh.
The screams of the wounded and dying were muffled as the next salvo of death rained down upon them.
The Knights now broke into a gallop and raced through the opposing line,
The attack on the French was unexpected as the English tore into them.
Dupont chose his opponent well. A magnificently equipped French Knight in black armour.
Racing past others he parried the French Knight's mace and delivered a massive blow with his tempered steel battle axe.The axe bit into the shoulder shattering his opponents clavacal, the upstroke severing the jugular vein.
The gaping wound haemorriged into the French Knights armour,choking him in his own blood. Falling from his horse he lay at the English Knight's feet.
Dupont leaped from his horse and finished him off with a second fierce blow.
He was already dead, his blood leaking out of his armour onto the battlefield.
Dupont stood still and watched the battle rageing around him, as if in slow motion. The English infantry were putting the survivors of the rain of arrows to the sword. Many Knights were captured and held for ransom; The dead were relieved of their weapons and armour much prized by the English.
The aftermath of the battle now took hold. Dupont led his horse back to the English lines. As he walked he recognised the knight he had slain only an hour ago.The black armour was distinctive and suddenly looked familiar to Dupont..
Looking at the Knights breastplate he recognised the crest. Two hawks and a crown.'The Black Prince'...His brother-in-law...The man who's life he had just taken belonged to his wife's family.
Poetry by Sid Gardner
Read 518 times
Written on 2009-03-07 at 01:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Sid Gardner |
